


What Faith Had Wrought

by Alllegsnodairy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:07:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23697490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alllegsnodairy/pseuds/Alllegsnodairy
Summary: The Inquisitor had always been a man of Faith. But events were transpiring to change the very world, and his own views on it were determined to change as well. Especially concerning a certain Tevinter.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Male Trevelyan, Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan, Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus, Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	What Faith Had Wrought

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies! So I'm getting back into writing for the first time in a very long time, I hope you all like it. Some context: this Inquisitor is a Male Trevelyan named Maxwell (Max for short) who is very devoted to the Chantry. I'd never played an Inquisitor like this before (usually a Lavellan), and something about him inspired me in a way I didn't expect.
> 
> This fic will be covering several things that take place during the events of Inquisition with greater context, but I'm trying my best not to do a shot-by-shot retelling of it all, because that's boring. Mostly I'm going to gloss over the larger events and focus in on the relationship between Max and Dorian, and just try to write as much context from the game as I think is necessary to frame their current situation.
> 
> Anyway, enough rambling. Enjoy!

Scarcely a week in Ferelden, and already Dorian was surprised by the South.

It was nothing like home. Redcliffe was a quaint village, though the people of Ferelden seemed to think of it as one of the country’s greatest treasures. Mages were gathered here in number, perhaps more than any one Circle had ever held in the South. The King of Ferelden had offered them refuge in this town, but...then Alexius arrived.

Dorian knew what he was up to. It was dangerous magic, that. He and Alexius had shared many late nights and restless mornings developing it, and all it did now was make Dorian’s skin crawl. The foolish wanderings of a younger man; Dorian was still quite young, but was old enough to know better even then. As for Alexius, well...he was _definitely_ old enough to know better.

So he made his plan; this “Inquisition” reeked of the Southern Chantry, but he’d heard good things about this so-called Herald. In such a short time since their Divine’s death, he’d already earned a reputation for, as they say, “getting shit done”. No doubt at some point the Herald would come to speak with the rebel mages, and at that point, he would meet with him. With any luck, perhaps this Herald can be a powerful ally in stopping Alexius, and whoever these fools are he’s fallen in rank with.

Dorian grew bored waiting in the Chantry. He’d gotten word several hours earlier that the Herald was on his way. Felix had the note, knew what he needed to do, but unfortunately Dorian had nothing to do but wait. The quaint Chantry was empty today, so he sat just out of sight of the main door so he could hide in case anyone but the Herald were to enter.

He passed time by snuffing out and relighting the many candles that lined the walls. They weren’t lit when he arrived, so that was able to occupy a bit of his time. He’d been keeping a low profile since entering Ferelden, and that meant not using his magic for some time. It felt like it was overflowing in him, desperate to get out, that even just this tiny act of lighting a candle was taking the edge off.

He was dozing off when he heard a strange sound, like ripping fabric and clanging metal all at the same time. Then magic prickled across Dorian’s skin like electricity, and as he turned to the center of the Chantry, the room was bathed in green light.

Dorian had seen these rifts, but only from a distance. He’d traveled alone, and he knew better than to face demons alone. Yet here he was, drawing his staff as several demons appeared through the rifts. Pools of energy gathered along the ground, and debris fell slowly through them.

It wasn’t long before the doors to the chantry swung open. Had he not been busy fighting for his life, Dorian would’ve hidden, but it was much too late for that. He struck down a pair of Shade demons, and when he looked to see who’d entered, relief filled him when he did not lock eyes with his former master.

Instead, it was this Herald. He had darker skin than most of those Dorian had met in Ferelden, but not quite as dark Dorian’s own. He was obviously human, with neatly cut hair and a scar over his left eye. Strapped to his back was one of the largest swords Dorian had ever seen. He traveled with others - an elf with no Dalish markings, a dwarf with a crossbow, and a rather surly looking woman with a shield.

He’d heard the rumors of the Herald’s abilities to close these rifts, and prayed they were true. “Good! You’re finally here. Now help me close this, would you?”

And without a single word passing his lips, the Herald jumped into battle. His group didn’t seem much like a team; they were four separate fighters occupying the same space, but they didn’t seem to have known each other very long. Despite that, they were all capable enough, and Dorian was able to see the man close the rift with but a gesture.

They shared introductions. The Herald introduced himself as Maxwell, though he usually goes by Max. His compatriots were Solas, Varric, and Cassandra. They were...an interesting lot, to say the least. Felix came, and caught the Herald up on all this Venatori business.

Dorian wasn’t optimistic. Even if he hadn’t been known as the “Herald of Andraste”, Max had Southern Chantry-boy written all over him. It was much more likely he’d go after the Templars, and if he did that, he’d certainly not find time to help the mages of Redcliffe. Not like they’d be able to work together even if he did have the time.

Dorian was desperate, though. He met again with Felix in private that night, and as one last desperate attempt, Dorian began his trip to Haven. It meant several days of walking, leaving Redcliffe unattended to (save for Felix, of course), but he wasn’t hopeful of his chances of stopping Alexius alone.

The trip was cold, but mostly uneventful. Already Dorian missed the warm breezes of Tevinter, but thoughts of home were enough to keep him warm as he approached the village once at the seat of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Even in the Imperium Dorian had heard tales of this place, and though he wasn’t interested in the South’s tales of Andraste, he very much would’ve liked to have seen it.

The guards at the front of Haven paid Dorian no mind - perhaps they suspected he was just another one of the faithful here to pledge himself to the Inquisition. He supposed, to a degree, that they were right. Conditionally, that is.

He found his way to the Chantry, and that’s the first time the guards paid him any mind. Before they could stop him, however, he pushed his way into the main room. Max was there, as was Cassandra and three others Dorian didn’t recognize. When the guards followed in after Dorian, Max waved them off silently. They obeyed without question.

Imagine Dorian’s surprise to find that they were already discussing how best to help the rebel mages. He didn’t dare question it, but his chest welled with joy that Maxwell wanted to help. He put on his confident face, as if he always knew that he would help, and they discussed their plans.

“I’m not content to wait while Redcliffe is in the hands of a Magister,” Max said strongly. For a moment his eyes flickered over to land on Dorian, as if worried he’d offended him, but then returned to address his advisors. “Leliana, send word to Redcliffe that we will meet with Alexius. If he’ll lay a trap, we may as well spring it. Dorian, Cassandra, Varric, and I will go.”

He spoke with such...authority. From Dorian’s understanding, he was not a leader in any sense. He wasn’t the “Inquisitor”, if such a title existed for this organization. But to any outsider, including Dorian, there seemed to be no question of who was in charge.

Max and his friends gathered their things, and at dawn, they departed once again for Redcliffe. It seems his journey was a waste, but at least he could rest at night knowing he wasn’t going to have to confront Alexius alone. Within the walls of Haven, Dorian enjoyed his first night of peaceful sleep since he left Tevinter.


End file.
